Inked on Paper

by Nicole Edwards

  I wanted my own porn star dialogue.

  The thought made me smile.

  When Jake pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, we were both breathing hard.

  “You don’t know how bad I want to strip that shirt off you.”

  I slid my hands down, over his shoulders, then down his back, raking my fingernails gently over the soft cotton of his T-shirt as I bunched it in my fists, lifting it until I exposed the smooth, warm skin of his back. I slid my hands beneath, palms flat as I gave myself permission to explore. Again, I knew there had to be a reason he continued to hold back, but I couldn’t help myself. It felt as though we’d been doing this dance forever, though it hadn’t been long at all.

  “Oh, trust me, I know,” I told him. And I did. I wanted to pull his shirt off, to explore every inch of his chest with my lips and teeth, to hear him growl his approval.

  “Do you?” he asked, his tone skeptical yet gentle and low.

  I moved my hands around to his stomach, feeling the ripples of his abs against my fingers. Sliding them higher, I forced his shirt up, giving me my first glimpse of his smooth, bare chest, washboard abs, and that sexy V that dipped beneath the waistband of his low-slung jeans.

  “Presley.” His voice was rough, a rumbled warning that I didn’t pay any attention to.

  I wanted to put my mouth on him, to taste him.

  He jerked me closer, his cock rubbing against me, too many clothes between us.

  “Do you know how fucking bad I want to lay you back on this counter, to run my tongue over every inch of you? Starting with your lips, then moving … lower.” As he spoke, Jake’s finger trailed the path he was verbally outlining, and heat exploded in my veins. “Over your breasts.” His finger briefly stopped, flicking my hardened nipple and making me gasp. “Then lower. Everywhere I didn’t get to taste the first time around.”

  I wasn’t sure I could handle any lower. His finger, the smooth, even way he touched me … it was making my eyes cross, my breath come in rapid pants.

  “Fuck, Pres,” he muttered, his head lifting, eyes meeting mine. “This is a helluva lot harder than I thought it would be. And trust me, I hadn’t thought it would be easy. Not by a long shot.”

  That made me smile. I liked that he was just as affected by me as I was by him. It made this thing between us mutual, and made me feel as though we were on even footing. Even if I knew we shouldn’t push this thing between us just yet.

  Notice I didn’t say couldn’t.

  We could.

  So easily.

  And I wanted to.

  More than anything.

  Luckily, the coffeepot hissed, a signal that it was finished. I felt Jake’s reluctance as he stepped back from me, taking with him the warmth he’d infused me with.

  I decided this was the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “What time did you get up?”

  “Before the sun was up,” he told me, peering over his shoulder from where he was pouring the coffee. “Sugar?”

  “Yeah. And a little coconut milk,” I replied. “Does that mean you were writing?”

  Jake handed me the coffee cup after he doctored it, then moved back to lean against the counter. I watched him, gripping my mug with both hands in an attempt to steady them.

  “It’s interesting how I’ve spent the last year unable to finish a story, sometimes unable to write anything at all. And then three weeks ago, I bumped into this beautiful woman in a coffee shop and now…”

  “Now?” I probed, wanting to hear him explain it.

  His eyes locked with mine. “When I’m around you, I can write. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can do anything.”

  “Why is that?” I asked, my voice reflecting the tremor that raced through me. Jake might not know it, but his words seduced me, in a way no man had ever done before.

  He shrugged. “I think I’ve found my muse.”

  Since he’d said the words I’d been thinking all along—only he was my muse—I nodded in understanding. But for the first time, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. We’d been spending some time together, and it seemed that he could write when we did, so part of me wondered whether that was his reason for being with me.

  I hated my skepticism, but I couldn’t ignore it completely.

  “So where do we go from here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “Wherever we want.”

  That sexy, mischievous smirk was back and my body recognized it instantly.

  Only, I hadn’t the slightest clue what that actually meant, but I was definitely interested in finding out.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Jake

  As I stood in Presley’s kitchen, looking at the sexiest woman alive sitting on the counter, wearing my T-shirt, I wondered how it was possible my head hadn’t exploded yet.

  So, seriously … a sexy woman wearing your T-shirt… Hottest fucking thing in the world. But this woman wearing my T-shirt… Hottest fucking thing in the universe.

  Christ Almighty, from the instant I’d noticed her coming down the stairs, I’d worried that I was going to be reduced to a horny teenager and come in my jeans. I hadn’t expected it, truly. And now, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to see her wearing anything else.

  From the moment I’d met her, she’d pushed me to the edge. I wanted her so fucking bad it hurt. Then, to make matters worse, I was at a point with Kora and Donovan that didn’t involve sex, so I wasn’t letting off any steam that way, which left me feeling as though I were hanging by a thin wire that was threatening to snap at any second. Wound so tight I was scared to breathe.

  “Jake.”

  I lifted my eyes to meet hers, noticed the heat there. She wanted this as much as I did. When she set her coffee cup down on the counter, I did the same, then moved to her again. My mouth found hers instantly, my tongue darting past her lips, mashing against hers while her hands found their way beneath my shirt again.

  Though I’d managed to keep my hands out of the mix a few minutes ago, I couldn’t resist now. Placing my palms on her thighs, I slid them up, beneath the T-shirt—my T-shirt. Her skin was so fucking soft, so damn smooth. I worked my way higher, over her stomach, my thumb slipping over her belly button. That was when I realized she had it pierced as well.

  Fuck. This woman was going to make me implode. I hadn’t yet seen her naked in the daylight and I was hornier than I’d ever been in my life.

  “Keep going,” she mumbled breathlessly, her hands forcing my shirt higher while I fondled her.

  Desperate to feel her hands on me, I thought about removing my shirt but decided against it, wanting to keep the focus on her. If she touched me too much, I would cave to the pleasure, and this moment was about her.

  I planted my hands on her torso, noticing how one hand spanned the entire width of her. She was so damn small. My inner caveman was roaring, a primal instinct to stake my claim nearly overwhelming with its intensity.

  “Touch me,” Presley whimpered. “Jake.”

  I couldn’t resist her, didn’t want to. Palming her small breasts in my hands, kneading them as she moaned, her head falling back, I watched, enthralled by how damn sexy she was, how easily she was giving in to me. At least it seemed that way, but in reality, I knew Presley wasn’t the slightest bit easy, not in any sense of the word. I liked that about her.

  My mouth went to her neck, my lips brushing the delicate skin, feeling her rapid pulse against my tongue as I lifted her shirt more. Once again, I pulled back as I revealed her dusky pink nipples to my hungry gaze.

  “Fuck,” I growled, meeting her eyes. “Need to taste you.”

  She nodded, a definite green light. I wanted to go full throttle, to sate this ache that was consuming me, but instead of diving right in, I planted my mouth on hers once again, kissing her as I leaned her back until she was flat on the counter, my body practically covering hers. My eyes closed when her nails raked over my back, one of her legs went around my hip.

 
The woman was trying to kill me, and I was ready to let her, because holy fucking shit … it would be one hell of a way to go.

  Releasing her lips, I trailed kisses down her jaw, her neck, pulling the neckline of the T-shirt down so I could kiss her chest, all while I continued to palm her tits, loving the way her back bowed up off the counter. By the time my lips reached her breast, I was starving for more. Moving around to stand beside her, I pushed the shirt up to her neck, scraping my teeth over her pebbled nipple, trailing my palm over her stomach, my fingers sliding beneath the thin cotton panties she wore. When she moaned, I cupped her, caressing her smooth skin, trying to ignore the fact that it was evident she waxed. It dawned on me that there was so much about her I hadn’t realized during our first time together, and I wanted to slow down, to savor every inch.

  However, I also wanted to strip her right there in the kitchen and devour her.

  But, although hot as fuck, this wasn’t the place I wanted to be when I slid deep inside her again, so I settled for working my finger through her slit, brushing her juices over her clit, circling it with my finger tip. Her back bowed again, her legs spreading wide when I brushed my middle finger over the sensitive bundle of nerves, then slipped lower, finding the warm, wet entrance to her body.

  I growled as I suckled her, nipping and licking while I pushed my finger past the slippery warmth that coated her pussy.

  “Jake,” she cried out. “Oh, fuck. Yes. Don’t stop.”

  I wasn’t sure I could’ve stopped. Watching her writhe, listening to her soft, pleading moans… I wanted to send her over the edge. Needed to send her over the edge.

  This was what I needed. For her to give herself over to me. No holding back, no regrets.

  Her fingers twined in my hair, holding me to her while her hips rocked. I covered her breast with my mouth, sucked harder, then trailed my lips back up her chest, outlining her tattoos with my tongue.

  “That’s it, Pres,” I whispered, lifting my head so I could watch her. “Ride my finger.”

  Her hips bucked when I curled my finger deep inside her, seeking her G-spot.

  Presley cried out again, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

  Sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

  “More… Jake… I need more.”

  I pushed two fingers inside her, increasing the tempo of the slippery slide of my fingers. “Come for me, Presley. Come on my hand. I want to watch.”

  Her eyes opened, and she met my gaze briefly before her head tilted back, breasts thrust upward as her body bowed once again. When she screamed, her pussy clenching around my fingers, I thought for a second that I would come, too, but somehow—I wasn’t sure how—I managed to wrangle my self-control.

  As much as my dick ached, as hard as I was, I wasn’t willing to come.

  This… This had been all about her.

  I slowly withdrew my fingers from her body, unable to resist licking them clean, tasting her on my tongue. That only intensified my craving for her, but I ignored it.

  Taking her hands in mine, I came to stand in front of her again, pulling her up, then wrapping her in my arms and kissing her softly, cradling the back of her head in my hand. This woman had quickly gotten under my skin, and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about that, if anything at all.

  “You know…” Presley whispered. “This is starting to feel awfully one-sided.”

  I stared down at her, frowning.

  “I seem to be the only one who gets to come.”

  “Yeah, well … we’ll get there. I promise.”

  I nipped her lower lip, licking the ring running through it, then pulled back, staring down at her. She was smiling up at me, which did a weird number in my chest. Something about that smile…

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I chuckled. “No, thank you.” Since she’d effectively fried my brain and my dick had taken over, I just realized that I’d forgotten my manners. “I’d offer to make you breakfast, but…”

  “Well, good thing we bought Corn Pops at the grocery store.”

  What a way to start the day … watching a beautiful woman come on my fingers … and cereal.

  I smiled and this smile was nothing short of all consuming. I could feel the happiness in my chest, which shocked me to the depth of my soul. This woman was doing something to me, something I didn’t completely understand.

  “Well, I guess I should tell you to go get dressed so we can eat,” I told her. “Only that would be stupid of me because”—I let my eyes rove over her again—“because I fucking love looking at you just like that.”

  “Well … why don’t I just keep wearing it, and you can do your best not to think about what’s underneath.” Presley’s grin was flirty and sexy. “Or, if you really want, I could get dressed.”

  “No!” I said, chuckling at how quickly that one word came out. “You’re perfect just like that.”

  “Okay, then. But if you’re not gonna keep me warm, we’ll probably have to turn up the heat.”

  I could do that. If I could stop staring at her.

  I knew it was rude to be ogling her, but I found I didn’t want to do anything else. I’d spent hours writing, starting shortly after I’d left Presley in her bedroom, only taking a break long enough to sleep for a few hours, then to make coffee when I’d woken before dawn. From there, I had jumped right back into it. And I hadn’t stopped until I’d realized I had drained the first pot.

  That’s how I found myself standing here now, ready to put off writing for a little while so I could spend some quality time with this incredible woman who’d unknowingly managed to inspire me. In every sense of the word.

  “About the heat…” Presley said.

  I nodded. It was all I could do.

  An hour later, we were sitting on the screened-in porch, Presley covered in one of the blankets she kept in the closet along with my T-shirt—which was now her favorite—or so she’d informed me.

  Breakfast had been more difficult than I’d anticipated, but only because Presley had sat on the island, eating Corn Pops while I downed eggs, bacon, and toast, watching her and thinking about how she’d looked when I’d made her come with my fingers.

  While I’d cooked, in an effort to keep my focus, I’d filled her in on a few details of my story, about Kora and Donovan, where I saw their relationship going. And while we’d chowed down, she had told me about an art contest she was considering entering. That was when we realized we were both working toward the same deadline: February twenty-second. Hard to believe that was sixteen days away, but at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care that I might possibly miss it and have Liz threatening to castrate me.

  Right now, Presley was the only thing that mattered.

  Once we were finished eating, I’d poured more coffee, then she brought me out to sit on the porch so we could see the lake. Cat had joined us shortly thereafter, making himself comfortable in Presley’s lap. Strange that I was jealous of my cat.

  And now, as we sat quietly, the sun blazing overhead, I couldn’t think of anyplace I’d rather be than right here with her.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Presley

  Turned out that sitting still wasn’t something that came naturally to me or Jake. So, once we’d finished our coffee, we’d spent most of the morning walking around the lake, hiking up into the trees, making out like teenagers a few times, then coming back for lunch.

  In a true test of my willpower, I’d managed to keep my hands off Jake for most of the day. Even when we’d napped on the couch for a couple of hours. When I’d woken, I’d been alone and I’d found him on the porch, writing away in that notebook. Rather than bother him, I’d cleaned up the kitchen, spent some time with Cat, and even read more of one of his books while I sat on the couch with a blanket.

  By the time we’d lost most of the day’s light, I was exhausted. Having only slept a few hours last night, plus the mind-blowing orgasm on the kitchen counter that had zapped all of my stren
gth, I was able to keep my eyes open solely due to caffeine and the fact that I didn’t want to close them and miss anything that might happen.

  I had offered to make dinner, but Jake refused. I wasn’t sure whether that was because he feared I wouldn’t supply him with a healthy dose of meat or if he simply preferred to cook, but either way, he fixed me a salad at the same time he cooked a hamburger on the stove. We ate on the back porch, listening to the sounds of the night all around us.

  We’d been talking about some of the tattoos I’d done, what the craziest one someone had asked for was, the most absurd, whether or not I’d ever spelled anything wrong, and if inking people was really my passion when his cell phone had rung.

  It had been Josie, letting Jake know that the painters were moving right along and that two people would be stopping by on Monday to check out a few pieces of furniture he was giving away, and that she’d also found a local church that wanted the extra furniture.

  While he’d talked to her, I’d taken the time to text Gavin and Gil, warning them that if they had another orgy in my living room, I would strategically place Icy Hot in places that would result in them doing some serious damage to themselves.

  They hadn’t found that amusing. Then, of course, they had proceeded to give me shit.

  I’d managed to shoot them both a text last night, letting them know we’d made it to the cabin, then another this morning so they knew I was alive and well, and at that point, I’d received a short response from Gavin telling me to practice safe sex.

  Their other texts hadn’t been quite so PC.

  All in all, it had been a good day and I was ready to sleep for a solid twelve hours. But I was suddenly inspired to do something, but I wasn’t sure what. While Jake took a call from someone else—it sounded as though it could’ve been his editor—I settled for crumpling into a heap on the living room floor and rolling onto my back while I watched him pace the room.

  As I lay there in his T-shirt once more—an outfit I’d learned really did make it difficult for either of us to focus—I noticed he continued to look down at me while he finished up his phone call.